


Kings

by lahdolphin



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahdolphin/pseuds/lahdolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are a team. They are Hyotei.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kings

Atobe picks his teammates during his first month as captain.

Oshitari is an obvious choice. He is able to keep up with Atobe to some extent and he has more skill than any of his seniors. He is truly a genius, though Atobe would never tell him that and risk inflating his ego even further. Despite his mental prowess, Oshitari does not question Atobe. He believes in Atobe’s strength and that is enough. If there is one person Atobe can trust to never lose, it is Oshitari.

Mukahi’s tennis is chaotic and sporadic, and his stamina will be his downfall. Despite that, Atobe sees that he can use Mukahi. With the right training and the proper partner, Mukahi could become a volatile weapon. His personality is also a downside, but putting up with his shenanigans is a small sacrifice for victory.

Shishido is rough around the edges and not suited for singles, but there is no one in the club that can handle his crass behavior. He is part of the team, but Atobe knows that one day he will lose and he will be gone. Until then, Atobe bears with him and calls him a teammate even though he does not think of him as one.

Akutagawa joins the team, talking about how great Atobe’s tennis is and how he wants to play a match with him. Atobe dismisses him because Akutagawa is only one in two hundred—one who wears his underwear during practice, sleeps at the most inconvenient times, and can’t be bothered to actually play tennis when ordered to. Then Atobe sees Akutagawa play tennis, really play, and everything changes.

 _With them, I can win_ , Atobe thinks.

 

* * *

 

When some strange rich kid comes to the school, Shishido thinks he can deal with it. Then the kid comes to the _tennis club_ and starts talking like he’s the shit and everyone should worship the ground he walks on, and Shishido cannot deal with it. He wants to punch him. He probably would have if Mukahi hadn’t held him back. Now that strange rich kid is captain and Shishido still wants to punch him.

Weeks after Atobe’s arrival, Shishido still complains about him on the way home. “And that Oshitari guy,” Shishido goes on, fuming. “He’s almost as bad as Atobe!”

“He acts like he owns the place,” Mukahi adds, suddenly furious as well. “He has so many books in his locker that he started putting them in mine while I was changing. My pants are down and he just puts some stupid romance novel in the bottom of my locker. He has no boundaries at all.”

“Did he go between the legs or around?” Shishido asks.

“ _Between_.” Shishido groans sympathetically. Mukahi declares, “Oshitari Yuushi is the worst!”

“I know!” Akutagawa says. _“_ He took the last piece of cake at lunch. I even asked him if I could have it and he said it was for a girl who was too afraid to go up for a second piece. That’s against the sacred rules of cake claiming!”

Shishido and Mukahi stare at their friend.

Akutagawa frowns. “What? Is there something in my teeth?”

 

* * *

 

Atobe takes cover when sheets of sharp, stinging rain begin to pour down unexpectedly during afternoon practice. He rubs his hair dry with a towel, gazing out the window at the team frantically trying to take down the nets and gather the balls. They are capable of that much, at least.

Suddenly, the door to the locker room flies open, Mukahi and Shishido coming in like a whirlwind, Oshitari following them calmly. They’re soaked to the bone and their tennis shoes are caked in a mix of thick mud and cherry tree petals. Oshitari closes the door and wipes his glasses dry on his shirt.

“Don’t drag dirt into the locker room,” Atobe says. “It’s distasteful.”

“Jirou’s missing,” Mukahi says. “No one can find him.”

“And when _isn’t_ Akutagawa missing?” Atobe returns.

Shishido balls his hands into fists, anger flaring, and Atobe fights the urge to roll his eyes at how simple-minded the boy is. “Why the hell are you captain if you don’t give a crap?” Shishido snaps. “Jirou is missing! It’s pouring, and thundering, and soon there’ll be lightning.”

“I’m sure the rain will wake him up and he will return to the locker room just fine. If you’re that concerned about his well-being, go and find him. You have my permission.”

“Are you deaf?” Shishido says. “We couldn’t find him. We already tried.”

“And what do you suggest I do?”

“Help!” Shishido all but screams.

“What he said,” Mukahi says.

Oshitari adjusts his smudged glasses. “If Jirou stays out in the rain, he may catch a cold. That would be quite inconvenient, wouldn’t it, Atobe?”

Atobe narrows his eyes dangerously. He does not like being so obviously manipulated, but Oshitari does have a point. The tournament is fast approaching and Akutagawa’s skills will be necessary.

Oshitari smirks, knowing he’s won.

Atobe pushes the door open against the raging storm and steps outside, the rain biting at his exposed skin and soaking through his clothes. Shishido and Mukahi push past him and run to the right of the courts, shouting Akutagawa’s name over the wind. Oshitari suggests they go the opposite direction.

They jog around the courts, Oshitari calling out Akutagawa’s name while Atobe remains silent, choosing to use his energy to search for the boy rather than get a mouthful of rain. Atobe’s foot sinks into a puddle of mud, the filth getting into his shoe and squashing grossly with every step. He is cold, and wet, and he can feel mud hitting his bare calves. Lighting strikes in the distance, then thunder cracks overhead.

They reach the back of the courts near the bleachers, spotting Shishido and Mukahi directly in front of them. Between them, lying under the bleachers is Akutagawa, still asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Akuta—“

“Everyone calls me Jirou, Atobe.”

“ _Fine_. Jirou, stop using my tennis bag as a pillow. Your drool stains.”

 

* * *

 

Oshitari tells Mukahi he jumps too much so Mukahi jumps on him and sends him falling to the ground. Mukahi stands up, dusts off his pants, and goes about practice without saying anything. Shishido high fives him.

Atobe walks over to Oshitari. “I don’t think Mukahi is very fond of you.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Oshitari asks sarcastically as he stands; Atobe does not offer his hand. “Though I don’t think you have room to talk, Atobe. Shishido would gladly put his fist to your face if he knew he wouldn’t get in trouble.”

“Yes, well, Jirou likes me. However, he is still upset you stole his cake.”

“Now you’re just being childish. The only reason Jirou likes you so much is because he’s impressed by your tennis.”

Atobe crosses his arms, offended. “It’s not as if my personal relationship to anyone of you matters. In general, tennis is an individual sport. Only doubles partners need to actually get along and since I have no desire to play tennis with any of you, I could not care less about whether you like me. Though you should like me; I know I would if I were in your cheap, mass produced shoes.”

Oshitari chuckles deeply. Atobe spares him a glance then focuses his eyes on Shishido, Mukahi, and Akutagawa on the other side of the tennis courts. The three are always together. Atobe heard from a classmate that they are childhood friends. Shishido and Mukahi had played remarkably well against him considering their current strength. 

“Do you think there would be any benefit to being a unified team?” the captain asks curiously.

“You’re asking, so I think you already know the answer, Atobe.”

Atobe ponders his options for the rest of practice. In the end, he decides to bond the team together to see if there are any benefits to getting along. The idea isn’t pleasant, but if it could affect their chance at victory, he figures it is worth the struggle. He declares that every week the regulars will spend time together outside of school and practice, and _no, Mukahi, that does not include the time necessary to murder Oshitari_.

“What about hiding his body?” Shishido asks.

“I think that is a very reasonable question,” Mukahi says, nodding to agree with Shishido.

Atobe sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. For some reason, he thinks he will be doing that a lot in the future.

When Atobe says he will treat them to gelato, Mukahi looks at Shishido and asks, “What the hell is gelato?” Shishido shrugs in response.

The captain takes the regulars to a small shop downtown. Inside, Akutagawa leans against the glass cases and points out everything he wants, and he nearly looses it when he learns there are toppings too. Atobe tells him to order whatever he wants. Oshitari says he’s going to regret saying that.

“So it’s ice-cream?” Mukahi asks.

“Fancy ice-cream?” Shishido suggests, equally confused.

The girl behind the counter looks horrified when Akutagawa asks Atobe if he can have one of everything. Atobe limits him to three for now, but says he can get more later when they leave. The girl still looks horrified when Akutagawa begins to list off what toppings he wants.

They sit on attractive, uncomfortable chairs at a table near the window while they eat. Akutagawa has three giant scoops of three different types of gelato and has never looked happier. Shishido and Mukahi talk about girls and video games, while Atobe and Oshitari talk about books, their conversation occasionally interrupted by Akutagawa, who keeps trying to get Atobe to taste his gelato.

“Let’s get burgers next time,” Shishido says.

“Seconded,” Mukahi says.

 

* * *

 

Mukahi has not threatened to harm Oshitari all week and Atobe begins to wonder if the weekly team bonding is working.

The following week, they go to a cheap grease pit that Shishido calls a restaurant and it all goes to hell. While Oshitari is in the bathroom, Shishido unscrews the cap to the ketchup and Mukahi loosens the cap on the saltshaker. They pour half a container of pepper into Oshitari’s soda and Akutagawa happily suggests they dump sugar on his burger.

Atobe is thankful he did not order anything and makes a mental note to never leave his food unattended around the troublesome trio.

A minute later, Oshitari sits down, swaps his entire tray with Shishido’s, and begins to eat. Mukahi turns as red as his hair and Shishido looks ready to tear out his hair. Akutagawa sips happily at his milkshake and offers some to Atobe.

The week after, they return to the same restaurant. Atobe never orders anything, but he sits there while his team swaps insults and stories and consumes deep fried slobs of grease.

They don’t know when they begin to think of Friday after practice burgers as a tradition, but in time, they all do.   

 

* * *

 

At some point, Atobe stops thinking about it as _the_ team and begins to think of them as _his_ team.

 

* * *

 

Oshitari, Mukahi, Shishido, and Akutagawa make the regulars in time for tournament season. However, in the end, Sakaki decides only Oshitari and Atobe are allowed to play in the tournaments. Atobe makes his case, arguing that Mukahi, Shishido, and Akutagawa should be allowed to play, that their power is the only way Hyotei will win, but Sakaki shuts him down. He says that in some cases, experience out weighs raw power. Atobe clenches his jaw, says he understands, and walks out of the coach’s office.

Atobe carries the team to Regionals where they lose in the finals to Rikkai, claiming second place silver. He figures he should be frustrated, or disappointed, but he is not because he finds his rivals at Regionals. Tezuka and Sanada are formidable opponents worthy of his attention.

Next year, with the entire force of his team backing him, he will crush them both.

“Oh no,” Shishido groans. “Atobe’s got that look in his eyes.”

“The I’m-going-to-crush-them look, or the you’re-running-until-you-die look?” Mukahi asks.

“Both.”

 

* * *

 

“Your glasses are fake? Why the hell do you wear fake glasses?”

“You just stole my glasses, Mukahi-kun. I do not think you have the right to criticize my prescription.”

“What prescription? There is no prescription! What kind of douche wears fake glasses?”

 

* * *

 

Summer training camp is absolute hell. Shishido’s hair keeps getting caught on tree branches when they run through the forest and he has to share a bathroom with everyone, which would be fine if Atobe let someone else in while he was moisturizing his face or whatever the hell takes him thirty minutes every morning. Shishido does his hair without a mirror and brushes his teeth in the sink in the kitchen, much to the displeasure of the cooking staff. And that’s not even the worst of it.

They take turns waking Akutagawa out of bed, but Shishido is eventually made the designated leader of the Jirou Awakening Squad when Oshitari rolls Akutagawa out of bed onto the floor and Atobe finds an air horn. At night, Mukahi sings and dances to bad R&B music that gets stuck in Shishido’s head. And on top of all of that, every-freaking-day Shishido has to run until he collapses and serve until his hand is shaking around his racket.

By the end of the week, Shishido is debating drowning himself in the lake.

He escapes the team during lunch, taking his plate outside and sitting with his back to a tree. He’s doused in bug spray so the mosquitoes can go to hell. He will enjoy one meal in peace.

But of course Oshitari-freaking-Yuushi has to ruin that for him.

Oshitari exits through the back door, quickly crosses the yard to where Shishido is sitting, and stands several feet away. Shishido stubbornly ignores the guy’s presence and continues to eat, but Oshitari can’t take a hint and starts talking.

“Atobe has the entire team looking for you so he can yell at you for evading team bonding exercises. I convinced Mukahi you were upstairs in the bedroom; the entire team is upstairs at the moment. You have approximately five minutes before they realize I was lying.”

Shishido stares at him. “ _What?_ ”

“I suggest hiding in a tree. The one we are under should work.” Oshitari holds out his hand and says, “You should also hand me your plate and silverware. They are essentially bread crumbs to your location.”

“Why would you tell me this?”

“And miss the opportunity to see Atobe angry? _Never._ Also, the last time we had team bonding, Mukahi kicked me in the shin. I still have the bruise to prove it. Now hurry, before the others think to check outside.”

Shishido decides that Oshitari isn’t nearly as bad as he initially thought.

(From the branches of the tree, Shishido sees Mukahi kick Oshitari in the shin. Shishido laughs and falls out of the tree.)

 

* * *

 

When the leaves change color and the air becomes cooler, Oshitari approaches Mukahi during practice. Mukahi looks at him, confused, because they’re on the same team but Mukahi doesn’t remember them ever talking by themselves. They are teammates, but they are not friends. Mukahi would gladly see Oshitari leave the team if he wasn’t so good at tennis.

“What?”

“Do you want to be partners with me?” 

Mukahi stares and repeats, “ _What_?”

“Your tennis is better suited for doubles. I talked to Atobe about it and he said he would arrange a practice match to see if we would make a good pair.”

“Have you ever played doubles before?”

“Yes, with my cousin.”

Oshitari is strong and his tennis would compliment Mukahi’s. Mukahi would be an idiot not to see that. But Mukahi knows nothing about him and there is more to being a good doubles player than finding someone with a compatible tennis style. You don’t stand on the court by yourself when you play doubles, and Mukahi can’t picture Oshitari standing on equal footing with anyone. Even if Oshitari’s ego is half the size of Atobe’s, it’s still too much for Mukahi.

They play together and Mukahi changes his mind.

“Yuushi, let’s be partners.”

 

* * *

 

When the maid tells Atobe his friends are here to see him, he wonders if there’s something in the water. Kabaji follows him to the main parlor where Oshitari, Mukahi, Shishido, and Akutagawa are standing, stomping their boots dry and shaking snow from their hair. They’re wearing hats and thick waterproof gloves, and pants that _swish_ when they move. Akutagawa grins at his captain and then sees Kabaji.

“Whoa! You’re super tall. That’s awesome.”

“You’re the guy who was there when Atobe became captain,” Mukahi says.

Kabaji nods but does not answer verbally.

“How did you know where I live?” Atobe asks, looking to Oshitari for an answer. Heaven knows he won’t get one from Shishido, Mukahi, or Akutagawa.

Oshitari smirks and adjusts his glasses. “We found the largest house in Tokyo. It wasn’t that hard. You’re the winner by five thousand square feet. Congratulations.”

“You have snow clothes, right?” Mukahi asks.

“Of course.” Atobe crosses his arms, almost offended. “But I am by no means joining you in the snow. It’s filthy and cold, and I have better things to do than lose my circulation.”

“But it’s _fun_ ,” Akutagawa says, excitedly bouncing in place. “We can build a snowman and make snow angels and have an awesome snowball fight!”

Atobe didn’t honestly think people did those things, that they existed solely in works of fiction, but he holds his tongue because the last time he said something like that, he had been dragged to the nearest fast food restaurant. Now he’s dragged to a variety of fast food restaurants on a regular basis.

“I dare you,” Shishido says.

“My pride is not so weak that it would be threatened by the childish notion of a dare.”

Shishido tosses his hands into the air in exasperation. “Then I’m out of ideas. Someone else convince him so we didn’t come all the way here for nothing.”

“Think of it as a team bonding exercise,” Oshitari says.

“Plus you get to build a snowman!” Akutagawa says.

Atobe sighs. There is no arguing with these people, is there?

“Fine,” he says. “But only this once.”

“Yay!” Akutagawa shouts. “I get ‘tobe for my snowball team, and the tall guy!"

Atobe turns to go back upstairs and change but also to hide the small that creeps up on him.

 

* * *

 

Atobe eyes the new members, noting who wavers under his gaze and who returns it. Hyotei is a training ground for the strong bodied and minded, and a king has no use for knights who cannot live up to that expectation.

“I am your king and you will follow me to the number one spot at Nationals,” Atobe declares, his voice carrying cross the courts for everyone to hear. “Here at Hyotei, the strong are respected. If you wish to be the king, challenge me at any time. I will be your opponent.”

One boy grins; Atobe makes sure to remember his name.

Hiyoshi Wakashi.

 

* * *

 

Kabaji has been a member of Atobe’s team before he even joined the tennis club. Since the beginning, Atobe planned a spot for Kabaji. Atobe has seen his tennis grow over the years and Kabaji will only continue to grow stronger. Overseas, when they were children, they had called each other Keigo and Munehiro, but Japan has different etiquette and Atobe is nothing if not proper. Now they call each other Atobe-san and Kabaji, but nothing has changed between them except that now, they are teammates.

Ohtori is a gentle giant. His singles play is adequate, his mistakes covered up by his serve, which goes far beyond what a first year should be capable of. Atobe allots him a year’s time to train and refine his basics. If at the end of that year he is able to hold his own without relying on his serve, Atobe decides Ohtori will be able to join his team.

Hiyoshi is raw potential. At first, his tennis is deplorable, then Sakaki says something to him and he begins to play in a different form. The other club members laugh, but Atobe has seen stranger tennis forms. Hiyoshi’s stamina is an issue, but Atobe thinks of him as a glass cannon, like Mukahi, yet another weapon at his disposable.

 _Together, we will win_ , Atobe thinks.

 

* * *

 

Ohtori slips into the team before he is their teammate.

Atobe is less than thrilled when Akutagawa begins to nap near Ohtori during practice on purpose, but Atobe also realizes it is a lost cause. If somewhere in the world there is someone taller and younger than him with a killer serve and white hair, Akutagawa would want to befriend him. That, of course, means napping near him to determine if he is a suitable pillow. Ohtori seals his fate when he smiles and says he doesn’t mind being used as a pillow.

Shishido takes note of Ohtori’s serve and potential from the very beginning. If there exists a perfect partner for Shishido, it would be Ohtori, but neither realizes this at first. (They don’t for some time.) Shishido invites Ohtori to Friday after practice burgers and no one questions it. Ohtori brings Hiyoshi, who does not slip into the team so much as he crashes into it.

Friday after practice burgers become a complete fiasco.

“Wakashi, that’s my milkshake,” Shishido snaps.

Hiyoshi grips his milkshake tight and glares at Shishido from across the table. “No, it’s not. Jirou-san took yours. And why are you calling me Wakashi all of the sudden?”

“Jirou!” Shishido says. "Give me my milkshake."

“But it’s more chocolate-y than mine.”

“I don’t care. It’s mine.”

“’tobe—“

“Give him his drink, Jirou,” Atobe orders.

Atobe sits next to Kabaji with his arms crossed and watches his team, occasionally smiling at a joke or making a comment. He still does not eat when they come out and the team should have accepted that by now, but they refuse to. Akutagawa takes Shishido’s milkshake again, Mukahi begins to call Hiyoshi “Wakashi,” and they try to get Atobe to eat soggy fries.

“I would rather quite tennis,” Atobe claims.

“I doubt you mean that,” Oshitari says.

Atobe meets Oshitari’s eyes then sighs. He eats one fry from the pile in the center, feels ill, and swears that he will never eat fast food again.

“It was only a fry,” Hiyoshi grumbles.

“What Wakashi said,” Mukahi says.

“Stop calling me that!”

 

* * *

 

Oshitari’s voice is the first to drop. His voice does not crack even once, or if it does, it does not happen during tennis practice for the others to hear. Girls begin to talk to him during lunch, even if he is in the middle of a conversation with Mukahi, who gets so annoyed that he starts eating lunch with Shishido and Akutagawa on the roof. They see a girl confess to Oshitari and she’s pretty (or they think she is; it’s hard to tell from the roof). Mukahi is so angry that Atobe briefly wonders if he will break something.

Shishido’s voice cracks like a vase hitting the ground. It takes months to level out to a deeper tone. Until then, every word breaks, going both high and low if it’s multisyllabic, and every sentence contains at least one girlish squeak that leaves Mukahi in tears. He rapidly grows several inches in height and in hair.

No one is quite sure if Akutagawa’s voice changed at all or if they just think it did. It’s hard to tell. Everyone just assumes it happened even though no one heard it happen. Oshitari makes bad jokes about a tree falling in a forest. Shishido rolls his eyes.

Atobe’s voice cracks for the first time when he is talking to Kabaji in his bedroom. He fights the urge to slap a hand to his mouth. Instead, he calmly reaches up, rubs his throat gently, and then continues talking. It never happens again, thankfully, and if Kabaji noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Mukahi’s voice is the last to change. For several weeks, his voice cracks at random and Shishido takes his revenge from when Mukahi laughed at him. Atobe says to Akutagawa, “I never thought Mukahi’s face could be the same color as his hair,” and Akutagawa laughs until his stomach cramps. Even when Mukahi’s voice has leveled, it still cracks sometimes, and Akutagawa smiles brightly at Atobe, who returns it with a small smile of his own.

 

* * *

 

Mukahi spends off days practicing on the run down, graffiti-covered tennis courts at the public park near his house. The white lines are faded and scrapped, and when the sun goes down, he can barely see them under the cheap streetlights. The sweat pouring into his eyes does not help his visibility.

 _One more_ , he thinks.

He lobs the ball high above his head and jumps up, springing high into the air, and his racket slams into the ball seconds before his body slams into the ground. He hisses at the sharp, stinging pain in his knee and pulls it to look at it. The outer layer of skin is scrapped white and blood begins to dot at the surface. He rubs spit onto it before getting back up.

 _One more_ , Mukahi tells himself again.

He’s already falling behind everyone else. Oshitari is a damn genius, Shishido is getting faster each day, and Atobe is their omnipotent ruler. Akutagawa sleeps most days and can still beat Mukahi without trying. Those first years are better than him, stronger and faster despite being younger. He needs to catch up or he’ll be left behind. He refuses to lose to them. 

_One more._

One more becomes ten more, twenty more, until he loses count. Before he knows it, two hours have passed. His palms are scrapped and sting with spit and dirt like his battered knees. His chest aches with ever breath, his throat burning in protest.

He picks up a ball, ready to lob it and try again, but he hesitates when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey,” Akutagawa says, waving happily.

“You were supposed to be home an hour ago, idiot,” Shishido tells him. “Your mom called us freaking out and was wondering if you were at our places. You’re so lame.”

“Shut up, jerk.” Mukahi brings up his shirt to dab at the sweat on his face. When he drops his shirt, Shishido tosses him a small box on band-aids. Mukahi rolls his eyes. “You just had to get me the princess ones, didn’t you?” 

“Duh.” Shishido grins, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Let’s grab some food before heading back. My mom is on another one of those diets and she keeps making me eat rabbit food.”

In Mukahi’s defense, Shishido practically walked right into it: “Are you having period cravings? I didn’t know it was that time of the month already.”

“You know what? I changed my mind. Give me back those band-aids. Get an infection and rot to death. Contract the black plague for all I care.”

Mukahi sticks out his tongue, then drops back down to the court and begins to cover his knees and palms in band-aids.

 

* * *

 

Mukahi, Shishido, and Akutagawa stand alongside Atobe and Oshitari on the courts during tournament season. Atobe thought his team would be complete with them, but he realizes that it is not, not with Hiyoshi, Ohtori, and Kabaji sitting in the stands.

They do not waver at Nationals and make the top sixteen.

No one is satisfied. 

 

* * *

 

People begin to call Oshitari the vice-captain of Hyotei. 

They don’t confirm it, but they don’t deny it either.

 

* * *

 

During summer, Mukahi shows up at Shishido’s house uninvited. Shishido’s mom lets him in and sends Mukahi upstairs to wake up her son while she makes tea. Mukahi bangs on Shishido’s door if it’s locked. If it’s open, he goes inside, rips the sheets off Shishido’s bed, plays the most obnoxious alarms, or shouts in his ear. When he does all three, Shishido threatens to throw him out the window.

Mukahi is on the floor playing fetch with Shishido’s dog and the saliva-soaked tennis ball rolls under Shishido’s bed. Mukahi reaches under and finds the ball and a shoebox he doesn’t remember being there a few months ago. Shishido is distracted by something on his laptop. Mukahi grins and opens the shoebox.

“Is this porn?” Mukahi picks up a magazine and flips through it. It’s not just porn; it’s _explicit_ porn. Full female nudity. Mukahi asks, “Dude, when did you get this?”

“My brother gave it to me as an early birthday gift. He said I was at the age where I should start to figure out what I like. He’s such a pervert.” Shishido rolls his eyes, playing it off, like it’s _just_ a skin magazine. He adds, “I haven’t even looked at it.”

“These pages are dog-eared. All these girls have big boobs.” Mukahi glances up at him with a shit-eating grin. “You got a thing with girls with big boobs, Ryou?”

Shishido jumps up, rips the magazine from his hands, and says, “Shut up!”

Mukahi laughs.

A week later, Mukahi asks Shishido if he can borrow it. Shishido turns red and stutters, but brings it to next practice. He hands it over in the locker room. Oshitari notices, pesters Mukahi about it, and Shishido thinks Oshitari figures it out because he grins at Shishido like he _knows_.

 _So lame,_ Shishido thinks.

 

* * *

 

The team is crammed into a tiny booth at Shishido’s favorite burger joint to celebrate his birthday. Milkshakes are mixed up, an unreasonable amount of soda is consumed, and fries are dumped into one giant pile at the center of the table for anyone to take. Atobe eyes his wrapped burger with distaste, knowing it contains enough grease to make him break out for weeks. This is the first time he’s actually ordered anything for himself.

“It won’t bite,” Oshitari says to his captain, smirking.

“Don’t be such a smart ass, Yuushi,” Mukahi says.

“Gakuto, you have ketchup on your chin.”

Mukahi rubs furiously at his chin while Oshitari chuckles.

“It’s really not that bad, Atobe-buchou,” Ohtori says gently. “I think you should at least try it. If you don’t like it, you never have to try again.”

Atobe caves with a heavy sigh. He unwraps his burger and takes a bite, acne be damned, and tries to ignore the varying reactions from his teammates. Hiyoshi doesn’t get why everyone is making a big deal, Mukahi is joking about taking a picture for proof, and Shishido says something that makes Akutagawa laugh. Atobe silently eats the rest of his burger. It’s not as bad as he expected.

 

* * *

 

“Kabaji.”

“Yes.”

“Find Jirou and bring him to practice. Carry him if you have to.”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Kaba-chan, why are you giving me a piggyback ride?”

 

* * *

 

“Ryou’s wearing _cologne_ ,” Mukahi says in the locker room, like it’s the most important thing to happen in the last century. “It’s to impress Maki-chan.”

“It don’t need to impress her,” Shishido replies. “I’m going on a date with her.”

“What? No way. You’re lying.”

Atobe closes his locker, grabs his bag, and trusts Oshitari to lock up with minimal damage and causalities. He expects to see Kabaji waiting for him, but he does not expect to see Kabaji and Akutagawa, who bounces with energy when he sees Atobe.

“Let’s get burgers!” Akutagawa says.

“And I’ll be paying for this?” Atobe asks with a small smile.

“Duh. Oh, and Kaba-chan said he wants to come too!”

Atobe tries to remember the last time Kabaji said he wanted anything—if Akutagawa is telling the truth, that is, but Atobe has never heard Akutagawa lie before. He studies Kabaji for a moment, then looks back at Akutagawa.

He sighs, feigning exasperation, and says, “I suppose I can treat you this once, but only because I am feeling generous.”

Mukahi and Shishido come out of the locker room, talking about girls and arguing over whether or not Mukahi has actually been kissed, and Akutagawa waves wildly to get their attention. “Gakuto! Ryou! We’re getting burgers and Atobe’s treating.”

“Hell yeah!” Shishido says.

One by one, the regulars exit the locker room, and they go out together.

 

* * *

 

Ohtori steps out on stage on the opening night of the school’s winter orchestral concert. The lights are hotter than the sun on the courts, and his formal wear is not as comfortable as his tennis uniform. He has two solos this year and a duet with a first year pianist. He sits in the first chair and looks out to the crowd, spotting his family and then his team, which may as well be a second family.

Atobe, Oshitari, and Kabaji are the only ones dressed properly. Akutagawa is in his pajamas, and Ohtori can see Hiyoshi lean over to Atobe and say, “You didn’t say this was a black tie concert.” Atobe grins smugly. Mukahi and Shishido didn’t even try; they have banners with Ohtori’s name and little flags.

The urge to laugh is overwhelming and he can’t contain it. His laughter rings in the concert hall. The conductor glares at him.

 

* * *

 

“Yuushi, where are you? I’ve been throwing snowballs at your window for the last ten minutes and I think your neighbor called the cops.”

“I’m at Kenya’s.”

“So you’re _not_ home.”

“No, Gakuto, I am not home.”

“Well, shit.”

 

* * *

 

When they become third years, the concept of “next year” is incomprehensible. As far as they are concerned, this is the last year. Next year, teams will split up, theirs included, and their most fierce rivals may even quit playing tennis all together. There is a next year, but it will not be the same. Their drive to win this year is stronger than ever.

Ohtori’s serve and Kabaji’s strength seal their spots on the regulars. Hiyoshi steps onto the court to challenge a regular for his spot, expecting Shishido, having planned for Shishido, and stares straight at Atobe. He joined this club to beat Atobe, but he hadn’t planned on facing him head on so soon.

“I will be your opponent,” Atobe says. “You said in the locker room that you would take this club from me before the year was over. I am being generous and giving you the opportunity to do so.”

Hiyoshi’s knuckles go white around his racket. _Gekukujo._ This is just a minor detour from his original plan, nothing he cannot overcome.

That was a foolish thought.

Atobe dominates with all the grandiose of a king. Hiyoshi is utterly defeated half way through the match with no chance of victory, but his pride does not allow him to surrender, even when Atobe is obviously toying with him, dragging him along on a string. Hiyoshi runs like a puppet under Atobe’s control and he doesn’t have the strength to break free. The crowd chants “Hyotei” but they may as well scream “Atobe.” The last point is an act of mercy.

Atobe’s words hurt more than the ball slamming into his wrist, his racket spinning across the court. “Watch carefully, Hiyoshi,” Atobe says as he jumps for the final smash, “this is how a king rules.” His rondo rushes past Hiyoshi’s head and it’s over.

Hiyoshi didn’t even get a single game.

 _Shit_ , he thinks. _Shit shit shit._

“You’re a hundred years too early to rule this club. A ruler who cannot understand his own strength is nothing more than a fool with a racket.” Atobe’s eyes are colder than his words. He orders, “Get up. Practice isn’t over.”

Hiyoshi drags himself off the courts. He walks past Ohtori, then Mukahi, and fucking _Shishido_ , who will get to play in the next tournament even though Hiyoshi is stronger than him. He is five feet from the bench where his bag is when he sees Oshitari.

Oshitari makes the mistake of saying a sly, smart-ass remark.

“Shut up!” Hiyoshi snaps, so loud and violent that it silences the courts in an instant. Oshitari’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. Softer, but not begging, Hiyoshi says, “Just _shut up_.”

“My, my,” Oshitari says. He doesn’t sound affected at all. Hiyoshi glares up at him, seething with anger—at Oshitari for rubbing it in his face, but mostly at himself for getting ahead of himself.

 

* * *

 

Kabaji is carrying Akutagawa from his nap spot back to the tennis courts when he thinks to ask, “Hey, Kaba-chan, how do you know Atobe?”

He’s known Kabaji for more than a few years now, but he has never thought to ask. Like everyone else, Akutagawa had been surprised when Atobe came to Hyotei with Kabaji right behind him, but no one questioned it even if they wanted to.

“My father works for his father. We met when we were young.”

“Oh.” Akutagawa kicks his legs and adjusts himself. Kabaji doesn’t seem to mind. Akutagawa asks, “What’s his father like? He never talks about him.”

“Atobe-san is nothing like his father.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Akutagawa pouts, hoping Kabaji will give him a real answer, but he doesn’t. Time to try a new topic, then. “So why do you do what Atobe says? ‘Cause you’re gonna work for him like your father?”

“Atobe-san said I do not have to do what he says, but I don’t mind. He is a good person.”

Akutagawa rests his entire weight on Kabaji. He smiles broadly and says, “Yeah, he is. Hey, let’s play a match against each other soon, okay, Kaba-chan?”

“Okay.”

When they reach the tennis courts, Kabaji sets him down and he goes to find Mukahi and Shishido.

 

* * *

 

Akutagawa is waiting to start his practice match with Kabaji when he yawns. He slaps his face, determined to stay awake until his match. He had to beg Atobe for a chance to play with Kabaji. He can’t fall asleep _now_ , but it’s not like he has much choice in the matter.

Fatigue gradually over takes him, and he looks around for a place to sit and rest. A quick five-minute nap will take care of this. He sits on the closest bench, which happens to be where Atobe is. He drops his head onto his captain’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

Atobe lifts a single eyebrow and glances at the blond. “Am I supposed to be your pillow?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound mad. “You never use me as a pillow.”

“That’s ‘cause your shoulders are bony.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know my shoulders are fine, Jirou.”

Akutagawa adjusts his head slightly. “Gimme five minutes.”

“You have a match with Kabaji.”

“And ’m super excited, but also super sleepy. Five minutes.”

Atobe sighs, resigning to the fact that for the next five minutes, he is not a captain of a national level team. For now, he is a pillow.

 

* * *

 

Sakaki announces the line up for the Prefectural tournament and Hiyoshi balls his hands into fists at his side. He did not spend hours training to be cut from the lineup. Shishido is in the lineup as a singles player and Hiyoshi knows he is better than him. Everybody knows it, or they should. It’s not fair.

Hiyoshi tells Ohtori all of this on their way home from school.

“I’m sure you’ll play at Regionals,” Ohtori says with a comforting smile. “Atobe-buchou and Sakaki-san have been watching you ever since you started using your martial arts form.”

“I want to beat him,” Hiyoshi says. The humiliation he felt that day is still fresh in his mind. “I lost to Atobe-san last time, but I won’t lose again.”

A week later, Shishido loses to Tachibana and Hiyoshi bitterly thinks that it was what he deserved.

 

* * *

 

“Help me train, Choutarou. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll train until I bleed if I have to. I don’t want to lose ever again.”

“I don’t think bleeding is really necessary, Shishido-san...”

 

* * *

 

Shishido cuts his hair.

Atobe is reminded why he chose Shishido in the first place. He vouches for him because he knows that from now on, Shishido will not lose, not with Ohtori by his side.

 

* * *

 

Atobe forces everyone to drink water as the sun beats down. Practice is gurgling, but it is nothing his team cannot handle. Sweat stings their eyes and their hands shake around the rackets by the end of practice, yet none of the regulars complain. They know that this is necessary for victory.

Mukahi has more band-aids on his knees than Atobe would care to count, and Akutagawa’s naps have decreased in number and length. Shishido is working harder than ever before and hasn’t come close to putting on another uselessly dramatic scene like cutting his hair. Oshitari tells Atobe that he of all people has no room to talk about drama. Atobe scoffs at him.

The largest change of pace is from Hiyoshi, who, ever since joining the regulars, has never stopped working. But improvement does not come over night and Atobe wonders if his work will be enough.

 

* * *

 

Hiyoshi breaks when he loses to Echizen.

His emotions catch up with him all at once, hitting him like a tidal wave. He tosses his racket to the side as if it hurts to touch it then curls in on himself, standing motionless on the court, his face hidden by his hair. His tears are hot on his cheeks and pour out endlessly. He does not scream, or say anything; he just stands there as the harsh reality of the situation hits him.

He lost. He lost. _He lost._

Shishido jumps down on the court. Panicking, Ohtori says, “Wait, Shishido-san, you can’t—“ He’s cut off when Mukahi follows Shishido. “Senpai!”

“It’s alright, Ohtori-kun,” Oshitari tells him. “What’s the worst they could do? Kick us out? We already lost.”

One by one, the regulars head to the court and circle their teammate. Hiyoshi’s entire body is shaking and he buries his face in his arms, ashamed by his tears, ashamed that they’re seeing him like this, ashamed that he lost to a first year.

“I lost,” Hiyoshi says, his voice cracking. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end here. He finally got to play and he lost.

“Gakuto and Oshitari lost too,” Shishido says. Mukahi glares, then remembers the situation and locks his jaw, keeping his mouth shut.

“And me! I lost too,” Akutagawa adds happily, like the situation hasn’t hit him yet. “Kaba-chan tied.”

“But the final match was up to me and I lost,” Hiyoshi says miserably. “I lost and now we can’t go to Nationals. I can’t play again.”

Sakaki joins them moments later and Hiyoshi shakes even harder despite his best efforts to pull himself together. “Hiyoshi,” Sakaki says, “did you play to the best of your ability?”

Hiyoshi answers, “Yes.”

“Then do not be ashamed.”

No one is shocked more than Shishido.  

They walk off the courts to their war cry, “Hyotei! Hyotei!” but it does nothing to lift their spirits. While they walk, Atobe puts a hand on Hiyoshi’s shoulder. He does not say anything. He does not need to. Hiyoshi understands.

They either lose together or they win together. It is not a lone individual’s effort. They are a team. They are Hyotei.

 

* * *

 

They make it to Nationals by the skin of their teeth.

They are not happy about how they got there, but they are happy that they did.

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean you want to play singles?” Mukahi roars.

Oshitari sighs and adjusts his glasses, perfectly calm whereas Mukahi is ready to punch Shishido’s locker. He had expected this, but part of him had hoped Mukahi would be rational and mature—apparently that was asking too much. Maybe he should have done this in public, not alone in the locker room where Mukahi’s voice rings out, but he doubts the outcome would change.

“I talked it over with Atobe and Sakaki, and they both agree it would be better for the next tournament. We make a good team, but I am stronger by myself. It’s _Nationals,_ Gakuto.”

Wrong choice of words; Oshitari regrets them instantly.

“So you’re just tossing me aside because I hold you back? You know I’m not that weak. That’s bullshit.” Mukahi clenches his jaw. A million thoughts run through his head, a million things he could say, wants to say, but none of them come out. His voice cracks when he finally speaks again. “I can’t play in the tournament without you.”

“It’s for the good of the team.”

Mukahi storms over to his partner. He hates his stupid glasses. He hates that he has to tilt his head back to look at his face. He hates him for saying what they had both realized a long time ago.

“Fuck you,” Mukahi spits. The words come out harsh but he means them. It startles him how much he means them. He does not let his anger waver.

Oshitari looks genuinely surprised. “Gakuto—“

“No. Stop talking and get out of my face.”

Oshitari looks for an opening to apologize but doesn’t find it. He leaves the locker room. When he reenters at the end of practice, there’s a dent in his locker. 

 

* * *

 

“Play doubles with me, Mukahi-san.”

“Why the hell should I do that?”

“Because without each other, neither of us will get to play at Nationals. Oshitari-senpai is playing singles; I lost my spot and you lost your partner.”

“Just don’t hold me back. Got that, Wakashi?”

 

* * *

 

Hiyoshi is different from Oshitari, but Mukahi doesn’t think that’s a bad thing. _No_ , Mukahi thinks, _it’s probably a good thing he’s not like Yuushi._

Hiyoshi is strong but he cannot last in a long match. Neither can Mukahi. They combine their aggressive, offensive abilities and their whole is greater than the sum of their parts. Their teamwork comes naturally and before they know it, they are covering for another, defending weak points they did not consciously realize their partner had.

Mukahi used to laugh at Hiyoshi for his drive, but now he respects it. He understands it. (Gekukujo is still a stupid term, though.)

When they defeat their opponent as a team during practice, Mukahi jumps over to Hiyoshi and holds up his hand. He wonders if Hiyoshi will do it, then Hiyoshi grins and high fives him with so much force that it stings and the sharp _smack_ resonates across the courts. Mukahi swears then laughs.

Oshitari approaches them immediately afterwards. The air about him is different. He is not smiling slyly or moving to adjust his glasses.

“Gakuto, I’m sorry.”

Mukahi shrugs. He doesn’t meet Oshitari’s eyes when he replies, “It needed to be done.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Sakaki said I could play with Wakashi at Nationals.”

“That’s good.”

They don’t say anything else.

Hiyoshi looks between the two, unaffected by their heavy silence. He rolls his eyes then says, “Practice isn’t over.” Mukahi and Oshitari look at each other and something clicks back into place.

“We know,” Mukahi says, a hint of playful mirth in his voice. “We’re not idiots.”

“Really, Wakashi, did you think that needed saying?” Oshitari says.

Hiyoshi locks his jaw. Sometimes he hates his senpai.

But Mukahi and Oshitari are once again _Mukahi and Oshitari_ , and an unnoticed tension that hung overhead during practice leaves and never returns. When Oshitari approaches Hiyoshi with advice on how to play with Mukahi, he listens.

 

* * *

 

They lose to Seigaku in the Quarterfinals at Nationals.

Atobe keeps his face.

His team sees through it.

 

* * *

 

The dull ache they felt after their defeat ebbs with time. Atobe hands off his captaincy and his jacket to Hiyoshi, who takes the jacket and stares at it for so long with such focus that it starts to get awkward. Mukahi jokingly asks, “Are you going to cry again, Wakashi?”

Hiyoshi looks up from the jacket, face red, and says, “You said you would never mention that again.”

“I _said_ I wouldn’t, but I didn’t _promise_.”

Oshitari adjusts his glasses. “You can’t argue with that logic, Hiyoshi.”

Shishido comes over, laughing and ruffling Hiyoshi’s hair, and makes him promise to take good are of their team. Ohtori smiles brightly and congratulates his friend. Akutagawa bounces excitedly, wishing he got Atobe’s jacket and saying that he knows Hiyoshi will do an awesome job. Mukahi tosses an arm around Hiyoshi’s shoulders, his weight shifting Hiyoshi forward, and Shishido pushes Hiyoshi’s head down into Atobe’s jacket. Hiyoshi laughs with them.

Oshitari walks over to Atobe and Kabaji, watches the scene unfold silently, and then says, “Be careful, Atobe, you almost look sentimental.”

Atobe crosses his arms and huffs. “As if that would ever happen. You must be imagining things in your old age.”

Oshitari chuckles.

 

* * *

 

Atobe speaks at graduation. Akutagawa sleeps through the entire thing.

After the ceremony, everyone leaves the overpopulated gym to find their relatives. There’s cheek pinching and hugs, a few cheesy pictures, and more than a fair share of bittersweet farewells. Shishido, Mukahi, and Akutagawa break away from their families the first chance they get.

“It’s just junior high,” Shishido says, walking with his hands behind his head and his diploma in his pocket. “Why is everyone getting so worked up? Girls are such crybabies.”

“That’s why you don’t have a girlfriend,” Mukahi says.

“You don’t have one either. Besides, I don’t even want one. Girls are gross.”

Mukahi mutters something about porn that has Shishido blushing a violent shade of red. Akutagawa doesn’t want to know.

They round the corner to the tennis courts without thinking—having walked there so many times that it’s become unconscious—and see Atobe lingering near the clubroom on his phone. Kabaji is not with him.

The trio hides behind the wall and watches. Mukahi says he feels like a spy. Shishido tells him to shut up.

“Yes, the ceremony is over,” Atobe says. He pauses. “I understand. Work comes before frivolous things like this. My speech? There were no issues. I put a copy on your desk, though I doubt you saw—” Atobe is cut off. “I understand it was clutter and I will not put papers on your workspace again. I apologize, Father.”

Mukahi physically shakes Shishido as he says, “Oh crap. That’s his dad. I didn’t think he was real.”

“I know, right?” Shishido says. “He sounds like a total dick.”

Akutagawa shushes them, but he can’t help but think they’re right.

“I will be home for dinner,” Atobe says then hangs up. He pockets his phone and walks their way. They run before they’re caught.

They never bring it up.

 

* * *

 

They all entire the same high school and join the tennis team, which is run by an incompetent baboon with an undercut and a horrible backhand. He dismisses the new first years and has the audacity to make Atobe a ball boy. Oshitari jokingly says that Atobe should stage a coup.

He does.

Akutagawa watches as Atobe defeats the captain, cheering with Shishido and Mukahi from the sidelines. When Atobe wins and announces that he is the new captain, holding his jacket in the air like a victory cry, Akutagawa is left speechless.

 

* * *

 

Shishido is horrible at singles but refuses to play doubles with anyone else besides Ohtori no matter how many times Atobe threatens to assign him to ball duty until next year. Shishido ends up playing doubles with Mukahi, who is equally horrible at singles, when Oshitari decides he only wants to play singles again. (Mukahi does not yell this time, but he does kick another locker.)

Without Kabaji present to find Akutagawa, Atobe takes it upon to find the boy himself since he can’t trust anyone else with the task. He asked Mukahi to do it once and he brought Akutagawa back with a face covered of sharpie. Akutagawa had smiled so Atobe had let it slide, but he refuses to let that happen again. They have an image to maintain, after all.

He finds the blond lying in the grass twenty feet from the tennis courts. Narcoleptic or not, it’s not a good idea to sleep in the sun in the middle of the day, especially during the middle of practice. Atobe bends over and holds Akutagawa’s nose until he wakes up.

“’tobe?” Akutagawa says, voice high. “Let go of my nose.”

“Hmm. Why should I?”

“I sound like a chipmunk!”

“And it’s quite humorous. You’re not making a very good argument for the release of your nose, Jirou.”

Akutagawa smiles brightly and laughs, higher and bubblier than normal. Atobe smiles softly and releases Akutagawa’s nose. “We have practice,” Atobe reminds him.

Akutagawa jumps to his feet and follows his captain.

 

* * *

 

They visit Hiyoshi, Ohtori, and Kabaji during their afternoon practice, expecting to see the courts in chaos. That’s not what they find. Atobe crosses his arms and tries to find fault in Hiyoshi’s reign, but he can’t. Atobe cannot decide if he is proud of his junior or disappointed that he does not have anyone to show up today. In the end, he decides it is a mixture of the two.

Within ten minutes of arriving, Akutagawa finds Kabaji and promptly falls asleep next to him. Shishido, Mukahi, and Oshitari set off to find Ohtori, which isn’t hard considering the boy has only gotten taller since last year. Meanwhile, Atobe approaches Hiyoshi, who just finished teaching a nasty first year a proper lesson on the courts. He’s grown into Atobe’s jacket since the last time Atobe saw him wear it.

“Your serve is better,” Atobe comments. “Though you have quite a long ways before it can be compared to my own.”

Hiyoshi grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Atobe-san.”

“I’m sure Kabaji isn’t giving you any trouble?”

“No. I’ve tried to get him to find his own style of tennis, but he just keeps copying his opponent. He’s good at it so I figured it’s okay.”

Atobe laughs softly. He remembers having the same issue with Kabaji a few years back. He asked Kabaji why he plays like that and received the simple answer, “Because it’s easy… and fun.” Atobe never mentioned it again. He’s glad Hiyoshi came to the same conclusion. 

“Have him focus on muscle and agility training,” Atobe suggests.

Hiyoshi nods, thinking that’s a good idea and wondering why he didn’t think of that himself. He says, “He did say he was bored without having to find Jirou-san every day. But other than that…” Hiyoshi trails off and shrugs.

“That’s good to hear. I was worried about him.” Hiyoshi stares at Atobe, eyebrows pinched together in confusion, then smirks knowingly, teasing. Atobe crosses his arms and firmly says, “This conversation never happened.”

He walks away before Hiyoshi can say anything.

After Hiyoshi calls an end to practice, they go out together and get burgers. Now, no one makes a big deal when Atobe eats his—it’s normal.

 

* * *

 

Mukahi has threatened to kill him multiple times now so Atobe knows the training camp is going well. When their afternoon jog through the mountains ends at a lake, Atobe is just as surprised as the rest of his team because they were supposed to be back at the cabin. Did they take a wrong turn?

“Let’s swim,” Shishido suggests.

“Dude, _yes_ ,” Mukahi agrees.

Before Atobe can stop them, Shishido and Mukahi strip down to their boxers as they run down the dock; Shishido’s hat lands somewhere on the sandy lakeside and Mukahi’s boxers slip down the curve of his ass when he rips off his shorts. Someone cat calls. They cannonball into the lake from the end of the dock.

Akutagawa is already in his boxers and jumps in after tossing his shirt and shoes at Atobe. The other regulars follow until Oshitari and Atobe are the only ones left standing on dry land, surrounded by various pieces of their teammates’ clothes.

“Yuushi, come on!” Mukahi shouts. Someone splashes him, his mouth filling with lake water. He spits it out and laughs.

Oshitari sighs and looks at Atobe, who raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t honestly thinking of joining them, are you?” Atobe asks. “Who knows what kind of filth is in there. That water could contain flesh eating bacteria, or worse, waste products.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pessimist?” Oshitari replies.

From the water, Shishido says, “Oshitari, you’re a wimp if you don’t!”

“ _Yuushi!_ ” Mukahi yells again. “Get your ass in here.”

Oshitari and Atobe lock eyes for several moments, then Oshitari takes off his glass and begins to undress. He takes off his shirt and shoes before walking down the dock. When he reaches the end, he dives into the water in his shorts.   The rest of the regulars are whooping and shouting obnoxiously, and Atobe thinks the entire situation is absolutely ridiculous.

Oshitari pushes his wet hair out of his face and looks back at Atobe. “The flesh has not fallen from my bones and the water is not yellow. Now you have no excuse for not coming in.”

Atobe crosses his arms, defiantly stubborn.

“’tobe!” Akutagawa says. Shishido dunks him under the water before he can say anything else. The blond comes back up laughing and smiling brightly at the shore where his captain is standing. “It feels really good. It’s awesome!”

Atobe walks down the dock to look at the water and determine whether or not it is fit for swimming. In hindsight, that was a dumb move. When he reaches the end of the dock, Shishido, Mukahi, and Akutagawa spring out of the water, grab him, and drag him in.

 

* * *

 

They sit in the stands and watch Hiyoshi and his team sweep past their opponents at Nationals. Their fate lies in Hiyoshi’s hands during Semifinals when he squares off against Kirihara in singles-one. The match ends an hour later at 7-6. Hiyoshi tosses his fist up into the air in victory then lowers it to shake Kirihara’s hand like a proper captain.

Fudomine hits them like a whirlwind in Finals. They lose three straight matches and the title slips through their fingers.

“ _Shit_ ,” Shishido swears. “That was a disaster.”

“More like a massacre,” Mukahi says.

They wake up Akutagawa, tell him what happened, and descend into the stadium’s inner corridors to find Hiyoshi, Ohtori, and Kabaji before the ending ceremony starts. They find the current Hyotei Junior High regulars standing in the hall without their captain, their faces filled with varying degrees of sadness and frustration.

Ohtori sits with his back to the wall and Kabaji stands next to him.

“How’re you doing, Choutarou?” Shishido asks. Ohtori smiles weakly and shrugs, says something positive that Shishido knows is bullshit. Shishido glances around. “Where’s Wakashi?”

“He’s still in the locker room,” Ohtori answers

Atobe orders, “Kabaji, make sure no one follows me.”

Swiftly, Atobe parts the small crowd and makes his way to the locker room down the hall. He enters without knocking and sees Hiyoshi sitting on the bench, head hung low, back tense and towards the door. Atobe approaches without speaking.

“I’ll be out in a minute, Choutarou,” Hiyoshi says.

Atobe would smirk, say a smart line, but he remembers being in Hiyoshi’s shoes a year ago after losing to Seigaku. He doesn’t believe in kicking a dog when it’s down. Instead, he picks up a stray towel and drops it over Hiyoshi’s head, holding it there even when Hiyoshi looks up at him. His eyes, damp and red, stare at his old captain.

“Atobe-san?”

“We’ll take our revenge next year.” It’s not a hopeful lie meant to lift Hiyoshi’s spirits—it’s a promise. “However, before that can happen, you are still a captain and your team is waiting for you.”

Atobe moves his hand from Hiyoshi’s head. Hiyoshi takes the towel off his head, dropping it to the floor, and stands tall, his eyes at level with Atobe’s. He grew again.

 

* * *

 

The high school regulars are adequate but do not stand out. Atobe does not care for them and he does not consider them to be part of his team. For now, they are pawns at his disposal while his true team is in pieces. Atobe patiently awaits the return of his team, the only team that has ever mattered.

In the meantime, they take Nationals by storm. They don’t win, but that’s to be expected. A king is nothing without his people.

“You’ll win next year,” Hiyoshi tells him.

“No,” Atobe replies, smirking. “Next year, the winner will be Hyotei.”


End file.
